The June Cleaver of Keswick. Only fatter. And funnier, with more kids and fewer aprons.

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I fear for the future if this is where Google is leading people

Logical sequencing, sensible leaps in reasoning, educated guessing. Many of us do these things on a daily basis. Some of us (um, not me?) take twisty, wonky roads to reach the most logical (to ourselves) conclusions, and sometimes, conclusions just do not gel well with the available premises (or premiss’). And for me, today, this all started with a Google search that threw shit sideways and rocked my faith in our collective ability to have a future as a people.

Let’s say, for example, I had been listening to my three youngest sons berate, argue, bicker and brawl for the last hour, and in desperation (and my valiant attempt to not toss them all out into the snow to ‘cool off’), I fired up my laptop, opened up Google and typed ” why do brothers” and before I could finish my thought and type “fight,” Google very helpfully (and terrifyingly) filled in the blanks:

Exhibit 1:

I’m sorry, come again? How did we get from “why do brothers fight” to brothers falling in love with their sisters?!? What PLANET am I living on? Honestly, people! What the hell are ya’ll doing out there?

Exhibit 2:

How can she slap what? And wadda mean, how can mirrors be real? And truly? Just stop eating so much, even a fatty like me knows that. And finally, why the hell would you want to stop singing? Sing it, sister! Sing it loud and sing it proud! Get your Susan Boyle on and give it! You don’t need Google to tame your voice! (Sorry all you other subway riders)

Exhibit 3:

Your life sucks because your hair turned grey while you were sitting around watching salt melt the ice. Your pee smells because, well, just YUCK. Buy some flowers, an air freshener, a frickin’ Scentsy dohicky that everyone and their mother has now. Get a man, a woman, a dog, a paper route, a hobby, Anything! YOU HAVE TOO MUCH TIME ON YOUR HANDS.

And that, dear people, is why I fear for the future of civilized humanity. Go home Google, you’re drunk.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go try to sing my weight away, I think there is something to that idea. When it pans out, watch for my infomercial, coming soon to a television near you (Insert the ‘These claims are not endorsed by the FDA disclaimer’ here). I bet that I can get Sally Struthers to host it, she’s having a slow year. What a score that would be. Anyhoo, off to sing now using Ms. M’s new Hello Kitty (!!) Karaoke machine. It is too awesome. First, it’s Hello Kitty, second, it’s pink, third, it plays music, fourth, it has a microphone and fifth, a camera pops out of her head and puts YOUR image on the television screen. It’s American Idol in my freakin’ living room yo! Thank you, Santa! Um, I mean, Ms. M. says thank you, Santa.

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And really? No Scentsy? I am beginning to think that every other person that I know or meet is a Scentsy consultant and having parties and lighting these things up (or plugging them in? Dunno, I’m blissfully ignorant of the details).